


Things That Have Been

by shortythescreen



Series: The Love of Bloth Hundr [3]
Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Best Friends, Crushes, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluffy Ending, Growing Up, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Johann is mentioned - Freeform, Mutual Pining, No Sex, Other, Prologue, Referenced Trauma, Religious Themes, Teenagers, sfw, teenagers in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:20:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23450836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shortythescreen/pseuds/shortythescreen
Summary: They were just kids when they fell in love.
Relationships: Bloodhound (Apex Legends)/Reader, Bloodhound (Apex Legends)/You, Bloodhound/Reader, Bloodhound/You
Series: The Love of Bloth Hundr [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1470548
Comments: 7
Kudos: 84





	Things That Have Been

**Author's Note:**

> wow i live yet again!!!!! 
> 
> so inspired by the bloth animated short today. OBVIOUSLY sfw, since bloth was a teenager at MOST in that short. like i'm talking they're probably like 15 at most ok, so no sex in this one fellas lmao. 
> 
> that being said, this IS kind of a prologue to 'chase' which IS nsfw! i'll link it as apart of my series below. 
> 
> come hang out with me on tumblr y'all @shortythescreen.

Twilight never lasts long enough for your liking.

The Elders tell you it is the time when it seems the veil between realms is the thinnest, when you can hear the spirits laugh and play and dance across the winds of the valley. It seems harder to believe it is the time closest to the gods, and yet…

It’s one of the few beauties that still captures your interest. As a teenager, not much does, though you’re forced to concentrate far more than what is probably normal. You watch the stars appear overheard, the sky coloring them shades of violet and crimson. The sun still warms your face even though you can see the double moon of World’s Edge in your peripheral, just barely visible in the quieting day.

You’re perched on a boulder at the edge of a cliff, watching the city you once called home. It feels like a lifetime ago that you were there. You can just barely remember the little apartment your family lived in, the room you shared with a sister whose name you’ve long forgotten. All the toys strewn about your room, the soft, heavy quilt your mother had taken the time to sew. Your father’s chair that he would slump in after a long day’s work, a water dangling from his palm, you on his lap. You wonder if any of those things are still there, frozen in time. If those moments still exist at twilight.

“Hey!” You hear from behind you. You look over your shoulder then snort as you see a familiar face trekking through the snow, a big smile stretched across their lips. Oh, Allfather.

“What do you want, Bloth?” You mumble, turning away, resting your chin on the knee you’re hugging to your chest.

“You’re supposed to say hi back,” they tell you and the quiet crunch of snow slowly stops. You look from the corner of your eyes, finding them standing just to the right of your boulder. Their arms are behind their back, big grin on their face, and you sigh. You know them well enough to know they will not disappear, no matter how long you ignore them.

“I don’t feel like saying hi. Twilight is not the time for hi,” you tell them, “and besides you said hey, not hi.”

“Then say hey,” they tease and you huff, turning your gaze back to the city. If you squint, you can see the building that your father worked at. You have distant memories of it, of accompanying him, seeing the smiling faces of his coworkers. You only remember one of them, whose name you can only recall because Artur speaks so highly of him. Johann was a good man, one that loaded you on a train when the Epicenter began to shatter.

“Hel _lo_ ,” they try again and with a loud huff, you drop your knee, then twist to face them with a dour countenance. You’re forced to look down, much taller than them on your boulder.

“Can’t you see when you’re not wanted?” You bite, glaring.

“Nope,” they say, popping the p. They offer a gloved hand out to you. “Come on. Uncle says it isn’t wise to look upon the past for anything but lessons.”

“Since when do you listen to your Uncle?” You grumble, hopping down, ignoring the outstretched hand. Still, Bloth doesn’t take it back, though their grin has softened into something gentler, kinder. Even a little understanding.

“Since right now, when it benefits you to heed that advice,” they say, biting their lip to suppress a giggle. You roll your eyes, pursing your lips. “Besides, I don’t like to see you mope.”

“I wasn’t moping,” you mumble, crossing your arms over your chest. You stuff your hands into your armpits, looking at them with a little pout.

“Your smile is far more pleasant than whatever _that_ is,” they say, “come on. I want to show you something.”

“I do not want to see another animal pelt,” you tell them, scrunching your nose, “they’re gross.”

“It’s not that,” Bloth says and, wow, hasn’t their arm gotten tired yet? “Don’t you trust me?”

You huff noisily, throwing your head back and looking at them over your cheekbones. They don’t flinch. You and Bloth came to their Uncle’s tribe together, small children who were forced to flee a disaster. You can still remember the day you met, shaking hands as your fathers introduced you, complaining about having to accompany them to work. You remember arriving in the village that same day, burying your face between their shoulder blades and not letting go, clinging to the only familiar face you had.

“That’s not fair,” you mumble but you take their hand anyway. Bloth grins and you’re certain if they’d ever take off their goggles, those pretty, copper colored eyes would be crinkling at the corners. Your eyes unwillingly fall to their dimples.

“It worked,” they reply, humming a jovial tune as they pull you along. They lace your fingers together, squeezing your hand, and your face warms with something that isn’t the cold. Though it’s been ten years, you’re still not quite used to the snow.

“Why can’t you let me stew in peace?” You ask as you trek away from your cliff. The elders say that no one has any claim to land, which is a sign that the old corporations, with their technology and claims, were evil. Yet, you can’t help but think of that little ledge, with the large boulder only you care to climb, as yours.

“Because you’re my friend,” they say, “and stewing isn’t healthy.”

“Says you,” you mumble though the venom behind your words has drained. You clutch Bloth’s hand and they return your grip.

You two hike through the snow for what seems like forever. Twilight has faded and now only the moons show overhead, both halves. The Elders say when both are full, those who train with the Wise Women will be able to see snippets of the things that have been, things that are, and things that have yet to pass.

“Your Uncle is going to worry,” you tell them, though the ground has evened out, and the trees overhead begin to blot out the moon. You draw a little closer to Bloth, your chest near their back, as your gaze flickers around the dank forest.

“Uncle knows I planned to take you here,” Bloth says and you sigh. It’s so rare they don’t cover their bases, that they don’t have an _answer_. It’s as frustrating as it is endearing.

“Why would you tell him that?”

“Because you were moping.”

“I was _not_ moping!”

“You only go to that rock to mope.”

“I got to that rock to think, _thank_ you, and maybe if you ever stopped to do it, you would know-”

You stumble into Bloth’s back as they come to an abrupt halt. You huff at them, opening your mouth and preparing to complain again, only to stop as your eyes land on the sight before you.

“Oh…” you breathe.

“ _Yes_.” Bloth says and you can hear the smile in their voice.

You release their hand and walk forward. The waterfall before you is frozen solid, ice glistening silver like a freshly forged sword. Snow surrounds the edges of what was once a river and as you draw a little closer, you’re certain you can see the silhouettes of fish, dancing and playing like the spirits at twilight. Protected by the heavy stronghold of ice that comes and goes with every passing winter.

The trees around you are as they always are in winter, topped with snow like a fine powder. Yet, somehow, with the magnificence of this great body of water, its roaring stream tamed by the cracking whip of winter, it somehow seems even more magical. You peer up as it, at the way the forest has somehow parted for this brilliant, natural beauty.

“How have we never known this was here?” You ask, moving a little closer, crouching down to watch the fish beneath the frozen lake. Your breath puffs out like a ghost before you, but you don’t care, far more interested in the way in which nature has gone still on this snowy night.

“Uncle knew. So did the Elders,” they tell you, boots crunching the snow to join you at the river’s edge. “But I found something _new_ about this place.” 

You twist your head to look at them and this time, when they offer their hand, you take it. They pull you up and bound closer to the waterfall, which only gets more massive as you draw near. You look up at it, slowly smiling, fascinated with the way the water has sharpened into deathly looking icicles, glittering in its frozen standstill.

“Pay attention,” Bloth teases and you snap back as they release your hand. They climb onto a rock, adjacent to the waterfall, and the way they’re looking at you is a mystery with those goggles. Yet you recognize the affectionate twitch of their lips, the earnest smile, and your heart thumps a little more loudly in your chest.

“ _You_ pay attention,” you finally huff out, flustered as you move to follow them. You’re careful to copy their climb as closely as you can manage, feet finding the spots that theirs had previously been in. You wonder how often they’ve climbed up here, if they’re used to it by now and moving slow for you, or if this is one of the first few times they’ve come here.

Finally, beneath what seems to be a gap between the stone it’s fallen over and the fall itself, Bloth climbs through. They have to squeeze a little but when they finish, they turn to you, and offer you their hands. You grab one of their forearms, your other hand still holding onto the stone and you cast a glance over your shoulder.

“It doesn’t seem wise to look down,” they tell you and you turn to glare at them.

“Shut up and help me,” you say and they snicker, reaching down to meet your other hand as you swing up. Now, they hold onto your forearms, firm hands closed tightly around the space just beneath your elbows. 

As they pull, your feet skitter on the stone, and you gasp, trying to find your balance.

“Hang on,” Bloth says, though you hear the edge of panic at their voice. Which definitely doesn’t help because if they’re panicking, they’re definitely worried about you falling. You squeeze their forearms so tightly that they hiss though they continue to yank you up.

“Bloth!” You squeak.

“I have you, I have you,” they say, and you clamber onto a more stable stone, your heart finally beginning to slow its stampede. One of your knees find the opening that Bloth is trying to pull you through. You’re forced to twist your body, shoulders too wide as you hang onto Bloth. They plant their feet on the cool ground beneath them, then lean back, using their weight to pull you through the gap.

With a loud thud, you finally manage to get through, careening forward and taking Bloth with you. You two slide back and, disoriented, your hands landing on either side of Bloth to catch yourself. You blink, trying to regain your bearings, only to realize just how close you and Bloth are.

Up close, you can see the shine of their goggles, their lips chapped by the winter chill. The markings on their face only serve to emphasize their skin and you hurry to pull away.

You flop onto your rear, then scoot back a few paces and Bloth immediately sits up, hands behind them to support their weight.

“Are you-” Their voice cracks and they clear it, shaking their head, “are you okay?”

“Yeah, fine- I’m- yes- this is, wow, what a place this is,” you say, trailing off as the little cave catches your attention. The light that had been reflecting off the ice outside pours into the cave as though taking the place of the water, casting a silvery sheen across the long cavern. It mixes with blue, like the water can’t decide if it should shines its light or the skies. You hold your hand up, flexing it in the dim light.

“Yes,” they say, “this is my boulder.”

“So, you mope here?”

“I _knew_ you were moping.”

You smirk at them and they grin back. The tumble is long forgotten and Bloth scoots a little closer to you, bringing their knees up to their chest. They rest their cheek on their knees, cheek twisted to watch you.

“I found it a few weeks ago,” they tell you, “and it’s so nice and quiet… Uncle says it’s a sacred place. One of the only ones that wasn’t touched by the evil.”

“Right. The evil,” you say, sighing as you drop your hand. You slouch over, legs crisscrossing beneath you and your elbows rest on either one of your knees. You look at the beautiful, glittering ice before you, bright azure and ivory and silver.

“…I don’t think it was all evil,” Bloth tells you just as you think it. You look back over at them, noticing they haven’t looked away from you. “It might have killed my mama and papa but... Not all of it was bad. Not the way I remember it.”

“Do you remember fans?”

“How can I not, during the summer?” Bloth snorts and you grin, sighing as you look at the waterfall again. It’s hard not to feel solemn when you talk to others about things that were. Bloth is the only one you truly feel free to do so with, that you feel like won’t judge you for your beginnings in a world of technology. “And heaters.”

“And _ovens_ ,” you laugh, laying back on the cool cave beneath you. You stare up at the ceiling, breath hitching as you see the twinkle of gems at the very top.

You hear their coats shift before you see them lay down, joining you, staring at the mineralized ceiling. Even though you miss all those things, ovens, and heaters, and fans, and Allfather, TV was really nice from what you remember of it, there really is something magical about a place like this. A place that hasn’t been touched by the world, hasn’t been tainted by time.

“I think I miss my parents most of all,” they say and you turn your head to look at them. Their gaze is focused on the ceiling and you study the slope of their nose, their round cheeks that have slowly been carving away to something slimmer, sharper. When they sense you staring, they turn their head.

You hum, wishing you could see their eyes. Bloth’s eyes tell a story that their lips will not, though Artur doesn’t ever seem to be able to hear it the way you do. You reach out, cautiously slow, giving them time to pull away. When they don’t, you gently grab the edge of one of their goggles with your forefinger and thumb.

They don’t stop you, don’t even flinch and you slowly pull the goggles off. You scoot them to rest on top of their head so you can look at those pretty, copper colored eyes, so dusty brown they’re almost red.

“There you are,” you whisper, and their lips twitch up in a little smile. You drop your hand, a little colder than before, letting it rest between you two.

“It’s almost the anniversary of the explosion,” they remind you.

“I know,” you say, “I don’t want to go to the memorial. It’s always the same thing. The evil overlord corporations killed those that we loved and now we should scorn them. Like, come on.”

“We could just… Come here.” They say and you raise an eyebrow.

“Your uncle would be angry.”

“He’s usually angry about something.”

“I don’t think that’s true.”

“Then you don’t know Artur as well as I do.”

You roll your eyes though stop arguing. The relationship between Artur and Bloth is no business of yours – you’re only here to listen when they get to be frustrated with the lack of pride they see in the old man. Silence passes between you two and neither of you look away, staring at each other between the narrow space of the cavern.

“I’m serious, though,” they finally say, “we could come here for the day and remember all the good things. Even if it ended badly.”

In your periphery, you see their fingers slowly inch out. They cover yours for just a moment before they slip their palm under yours, tangling your hands once again. Your lips twitch upwards and they return your smile, bashful. Bloth is sometimes reckless where they needn’t be. It’s one of the many things you like about them that also frustrates you. As confusing as it is endearing.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you tell them, “but we could have our own memorial one day and do that.”

“I’d like that,” they say, and you hum, gripping their hand tightly. You turn your gaze back to the ceiling, eyes flickering across the gems, like stars twinkling in the dim light from the moon shining through the frozen fall.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” you murmur. They thumb your knuckles gently.

“Now you can come bother me when I mope,” they say and you throw your head back with a laugh, neck arching away from the cold floor. You roll onto your side, preparing to remind them that you only admitted to moping once, thank you very much, only to realize the look in those pretty copper eyes. The story that no one can seem to hear.

“There you are,” they say back to you, reaching out with their free hand to touch your cheek. There your heart goes again, stumbling along in your chest, and your throat bobs with how hard you swallow. You two observe each other for a long time, skin silvery from the moon outside, and right now, you think you can hear the spirits, their giggles carried on the wind that blows through the cavern. They only seem to grow louder as Bloth uses their grip on your cheek to guide you to them, copper eyes fluttering shut.

Your lips brush just barely. Before you can tilt your head and stumble along to the beat of your heart, you hear shouts of your name and Bloth’s. You two jerk apart and Bloth’s face is bright red, the tips of their ears the same colors as the markings they choose to don.

“Um.”

“I’m so sorry-” 

“No! No, I’m- I’m sorry-”

“You didn’t do anything, why are you sorry-”

“I don’t know! I just-”

Someone calls your names again and you twist to look over your shoulder at the opening, Bloth raising their head to join you. You two look at each other again, then at the opening, and you loudly sigh.

“Oh, Allfather,” you groan, before leaning down and connecting your lips with theirs. They squeak against you, hands shooting up to touch your face, yours on either side of their head. It’s messy, neither of you quite sure of what you’re doing, and your teeth clink, noses bumping as you seek your footing in this.

You pull away, heart racing again, and they stare up at you, equally discombobulated. Then, after another long moment, they smile at you, thumbs running over the apples of your cheek.

“Uh,” they begin intelligently and you grin back.

“Come on,” you say, scooting back, and they scramble to join you, pulling their goggles back into place.

“I, um. I really- We should-” they lamely continue and as you hit the opening you giggle in their direction.

“We’ll talk about it later,” you promise them. They stop their stuttering to beam, nodding along as they scoot around to climb down first.

You and Bloth hurry back to the others, all giddy smiles and crinkled eyes as you find the small group of villagers that had been looking for you – all hunters. They were very close to your hiding spot and Artur is among them, glaring at their brother’s child. He admonishes you both for being gone for so long, but you don’t hear bane in his tone.

Your eyes turn to the moon, both halves in the sky. Even though they’re not full, as you look at Bloth, the quiet grin stretched across their face, you think you can see things. Things that are, and things that have yet to pass.


End file.
